The Road Not Taken
by I.am.a.Wunderkind
Summary: An in-the-moment reflection on Edmund's decisions accompanied by parallels to Robert Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken."
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, reader! I've composed a story for you based on Robert Frost's 1916 poem "The Road Not Taken," which is in the public domain, though I do point out that it is not written by me. Nor is the dialogue from most of this story. All credit for characters, settings, and situations goes to C.S. Lewis, his publishers, and related legal estates. As this is based more on the movies than the books credit is also due to Walden Media, Disney, 20th Century Fox, and related persons and companies. No profit is made from the following and no harm is intended. This will probably be rather slow and short at the beginning, but I hope the parallels drawn to the famous poem will be appreciated. Speaking of appreciation, I'd like to thank the reviewers of my first story "Burning Ice," whom I shall not name here for fear of perhaps getting another review and slighting someone, for their favorable reviews and affirmation that I'm not entirely lacking in talent. If you would like to leave a review, I'd love constructive criticism as I'm always looking to be better. Please enjoy, and drop me a line after with any comments you may have. **

_The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost_

_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,_

It really was remarkable. A wood in a wardrobe. It shouldn't be there, but it was; it shouldn't exist, but it did.

Edmund lay there in the snow for a moment, looking up at the trees, laden with snow, eyes on the frosty muted sky, gray as an English one after a snowfall, the color of London fog. The water from the snow melting from his body's heat was cold on his back, seeping through his blue bathrobe to his pajamas, so he stood up and looked about. The snow heaped into his slippers so that every step was like onto pins and needles.

"Lucy?" He pulled the bathrobe tighter, but it only soaked his back more so that he shivered. "Luuuucy! I think I believe you now!"

Who was he kidding? Of course he believed her. He couldn't be dreaming, he'd never been this cold in dreams. He plodded on through the drifts, shaking snow from each slipper every other step. He looked around more clearly at the Wood in the Wardrobe. There was something not quite right about it. Something ominous. Something that knew he was there. It was almost as if the entire Wood was a living, breathing thing. Even the lone lamp-post in the middle of the Wood (who put lamp-posts in woods?) seemed to grow from the ground. But that was ridiculous.

"Luuuucy!" But it wasn't Lucy he heard, it was bells, like a sleigh.

And then, out of nowhere: "YAH!" and a cracking sound like Mrs. Macready's whip.

A fountain of snow erupted down an avenue lined with pines and firs. Churning drifts blasted beneath the hooves of unseen animals. Edmund dived out of the way into the snow, trying to become invisible. A small man with a long beard and a red woolen hat jumped out of the now-stopped sleigh, looking quite threatening. Edmund decided that when one is in a foreign place, it's always better to be safe than sorry. He took off running, glancing behind him as he waded through the snow, and saw the little man gaining.

The dwarf, for that was what he was, shot out his whip and it wrapped very precisely round Edmund's ankle, just after his slipper and prior to his pajama pants, and it tightened and cut like the prickling ice all around. A swift jerk by the dwarf left Edmund face-down in the snow, and he flipped himself over immediately. He tried to flounder away, but the dwarf was on top of him, a _knife_ pressed to his throat, their breath freezing together in the air.

This was the beautiful, marvelous land Lucy loved already? This was no place for children! This was dangerous, life-threatening! What would happen if he didn't get back to that wardrobe, to the other side, to Professor Kirke's house? What if he died right here, right now? How long would it take them to notice? Would Lucy find him? And what on Earth was the threatening little fellow with the knife trying to say?

"What _is_ it, Ginarrbrik?" asked a voice from the sleigh, the speaker invisible behind its high snowguard. It was a woman's voice, a very powerful woman's voice, a voice unaccustomed to being disobeyed. It was a cold voice, too, compliant with the Wood, which was now even more smotheringly silent.

"He won't get off!" Edmund sputtered, hoping whoever it was would tell this person to put the knife away like a decent person. The dwarf only pushed the blade closer so that any nearer would draw blood.

"Is that how you address the Queen of Narnia?" hissed the dwarf, who must be Ginarrbrik.

"I-I didn't know!"

Ginarrbrik seemed to take particular offense to that. "Well, you shall know her better afterwards!" And he raised the knife and Edmund could only think _I'm going to die._

"Wait!" said the woman's voice, and Edmund lifted his head to see below the dwarf's knife and around his fur-wrapped body. The speaker was standing, towering over the sleigh. She was the tallest woman he had ever seen, taller than most men. She wore a pure white dress and her thick hair was tied straight back, as if it too was hesitant to disobey her will. And on her head she wore a crown of long icicles, glinting and regal. She held in her hand a staff, almost a spear of ice on an iron pike. Even from a distance she was strikingly beautiful, but in a terrible beauty, not an approachable beauty like Susan was always told she possessed, but a beauty that made you cower and feel insufficient. She spoke again, this time to Edmund, who wasn't certain that he was relieved she'd stopped the dwarf: "What is your name, Son of Adam?"

**I hope you don't consider that a _complete_ waste of time. You know the story, I know. Things will begin to pick up further in, as these first two chapters will mainly be background information. Please bear with me. Thank you for coming this far. As stated before, I appreciate any comments you may have, favorable or otherwise. We shall continue the poem and the story later, should this garner any attention. My thanks, dear readers. For Narnia, and for Aslan!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! Once again, I claim no ownership to dialogue, characters, settings, or situations, and my disclaimer can be found in chapter one, because it was rather long, wasn't it? I hope you enjoy this next chapter; please drop a line when you've finished!**

**Chapter Two**

_And sorry I could not travel both_

_And be one traveler, long I stood_

"Edmund, your majesty," he told her, as the dwarf left off trying to decapitate him. He struggled to his feet, and the Queen looked down at him with a very superior expression.

"And how was it, Edmund, that you came to enter my dominion?"

Yes, it was fine. He was only a visitor, just passing through. He could not have known if he'd broken a law, he was only a traveler. He'd sort things out with this Queen, get Lucy, and they'd never come back to this terrifying Wood.

"I walked through a wardrobe following my sister."

This seemed to greatly interest the Queen. She leaned forward very slightly as if to hear better, and her eyes were sharp and perceptive. "Your sister? How many are you?"

_There's Peter, then Susan, then me, then Lucy_, Edmund counted, a little shaken. He was in a Wood in a Wardrobe. At least there was something he knew for sure.

"Four."

Something changed in the Queen's eyes, but it flashed away and was replaced by a very benevolent expression. Her smile was frosty, as was her demeanor, but she spread one side of her ermine fur cloak aside and addressed him. "Edmund! You look so cold! Come and sit with me here on my sledge. Come, come on."

Edmund was more than reluctant at first, particularly as Ginarrbrik was still glowering at him, but the promise of warmth was too good to ignore. Besides, he had no idea what this Queen would do to him if he refused.

"Now, would you like something warm to drink?" she asked him, as they settled together into the sleigh and she wrapped her stole around his shoulders. It was surprising how quickly he warmed. It wasn't a complete warmth, as though there was still something cold underneath, but it was good enough, better than shivering to death in the snow.

"Yes!" he said. "Your majesty," he was quick to add.

She smiled the same benign but chill smile at him and took a vial from her cloak. She dribbled just a drop, an emerald sparkling in the freezing sky, to the snow. Instantly, it began to grow and form into a large goblet, steaming and melting the snow around it. She recapped her vial and Ginarrbrik handed up the cup, which the Queen passed to Edmund. He grabbed it and drank greedily, the hot drink warming his cold insides. He couldn't help but notice that it wasn't a penetrating warmth like a hot tea by the fire in Christmastime, but it did its job.

"How did you do that?" he asked her between sips.

"I can make you anything you like," she told him in a promising tone, a leading one.

"Can you make me taller?" Edmund asked cleverly.

She chuckled, a laugh that excluded her eyes.

"I can make anything you'd like to _eat_."

Edmund thought about that. What did he like best? "Turkish Delight," he challenged.

Once again she poured a drop of her vial into the snow, and where the cup had appeared grew a shining silver box with an almost silver-lace cover. _Royal_ Turkish Delight. Ginarrbrik grudgingly handed it to Edmund.

"I'd love to see your family," the Queen told Edmund as he began eating the Turkish Delight. Her words were temporarily lost on him. These weren't English Turkish Delight. These were bursting with flavor, centers so gummy his mouth made a _tackytacky_ sound with every greedy bite and the powder wafted around, puffing onto his face, but he didn't care.

"They're nothing special," he told her, eating steadily through the sweets.

The Queen looked into his face deeply, though he practically ignored her in favor of the Turkish Delight. "I have no children of my own and you are such a fine young man that I could see, one day, you becoming prince of Narnia. Maybe even King."

That caught Edmund's attention. He looked up sharply with his mouth full of Turkish Delight. "Really?" It was almost disconcerting looking into the Queen's eyes. They were icy and powerful, and looked almost dishonest, though they promised him everything he would ever want. He couldn't help but notice that she appeared to have snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes, as though she wasn't warm enough to melt them, though he could feel the heat radiating from her beside him under the ermine stole. She made a noise of confirmation, carefully dabbing the smudge of powder off his face.

She nodded, more to herself than him. "Of course, you'd have to bring your family."

There was the catch. Edmund returned his attention to his Turkish Delight. There was no way he'd be a King of Narnia if Peter was around. Brilliant Peter, always so special, always so perfect.

"Oh, Peter will be King, too?"

"No! Oh no," the Queen laughed to him, so that he was immediately reassured. "But a King needs servants."

"I-I guess I could bring 'em," Edmund said noncommittally, his mind still enraptured by the Turkish Delight, because he'd never tasted anything so good. He was afraid they'd run out, and he'd be left without forever. What a sad existence that would be!

**Did you enjoy it? Did you stop reading? Please leave a review and let me know. If you have any advice on how I could make it better, I'd so greatly appreciate your comments! Many thanks for reading. For Narnia, and for Aslan!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for coming to chapter three! It is slow, isn't it? Now, this is a very short chapter, but I need to stay within the parallel parameters of the poem. Don't worry; I'm probably uploading tomorrow, and the chapter's _at least _twice as long. Do you know as of now only half of my readers of Chapter One have gone to Chapter Two? I hope that trend does not continue! I'd love to thank every reviewer of my previous chapters for their brilliant feedback (you may see it in upcoming chapters, I loved it so much), particularly those with constructive criticism and suggestions. If you'd do the same or drop me a line for the first time I'd appreciate it like you have no idea. Thank you for coming, and please read on. Expect a more eventful installment tomorrow.**

_And looked down one as far as I could_

_To where it bent in the undergrowth;_

"Beyond these woods, do you see those two little hills?" the Queen asked him, bringing her head down to his level and turning his face in the desired direction. _How funny it is_, Edmund thought_, that her hand should be so cold and so warm all at once_. He nodded against her, still eating his Turkish Delight. "My house is right between them. You'd love it there, Edmund," she told him promisingly as he was led back to the snow from her side. "It has whole rooms simply _stuffed_ with Turkish Delight!"

That Turkish Delight. Almost as wonderful as the promise itself. "Couldn't I have some more now?" Edmund requested.

"NO!" she shouted, and somehow it seemed more natural than her previous demeanor. Edmund took an involuntary step back, but she seemed to catch herself. She smiled almost apologetically. "Don't want to ruin your appetite." She settled into her seat and shared a smile with Edmund he found reassuring in a superior fashion. She looked him over from the top of his messy dark hair to his slippered toes and made a sad but anticipant _mmm _noise as if she was the hungry one. "I'm going to miss you, Edmund. But we are going to see each other soon."

"I hope so," Edmund answered honestly.

"Until then," she told him as Ginarrbrik took his place at the reigns, "dear one…" she added, which rather surprised Edmund. He was never anybody's "dear one," he was the annoying idiot everyone needed to scold and teach a lesson to. He watched as the sleigh pulled away, the Queen sitting regally back as the spray of snow enveloped them and they disappeared so that the Woods in the Wardrobe were silent again. But it wasn't a threatening, ominous silence. He'd talked with its Queen. He was her dear one. He was just fine.

"Edmund? OH, EDMUND!" Lucy suddenly shouted, bounding through the snow at him. She flung her arms round him in an enormous hug and he tried to shake her off. "Oh, you got in, too! You got in, too! I saw Mr. Tumnus again and he's _fine_! The White Witch hasn't found out about him helping me!" she told him ecstatically.

White Witch? It couldn't be her. But there was all of that snowy white. And the magic of the drink and the Turkish Delight….

"The White Witch?"

"She _calls _herself the Queen of Narnia, but she really isn't," Lucy told him matter-of-factly.

_Oh dear_, Edmund thought. The wonderful, beautiful woman who wanted to make him her King wasn't who she said she was? But her crown! And her commanding person! _Then again_, he thought, _Lucy's only a little kid. What does she know_?

"Edmund?" she asked, breaking his thoughts. "Are you okay? You look awful!"

Edmund thought quickly for a fair enough excuse. He shuffled his feet and shivered, looking around at the Wood which was suddenly frightening once again. "Well, what do you expect?" he asked sharply. "It's freezing! How do we get out of here?"

"Come on," Lucy said, accepting his reason unconditionally. "This way."

They were in Narnia, all of them. Peter and Susan were looking around in wonder and almost disbelief and apologizing profusely to Lucy, who started a snowball fight. All Edmund could think about was the fact that they were all there. And she wanted to see them. So that _he_, Edmund Pevensie, could be a king. Now all he had to do was convince them to get to the house between the hills.

"Ow!" Edmund rubbed his arm where the snowball had hit him. "Stop it!" And then he saw in their faces that they knew. They knew he'd lied. Lucy did, of course, she'd known all along. But Peter and Susan, who were more inclined to believe him, as outlandish as it sounded, realized he'd lied to them, to Lucy; that he'd sold her short.

"You little liar!" Peter accused, confirming his suspicions.

"You didn't believe her either!" Edmund shot back. It was true, he couldn't have lied any more than Peter and Susan had when they insisted that Narnia was all a game.

"Apologize to Lucy," Peter demanded.

Edmund only glared at her sullenly. They couldn't make him _apologize_. He'd done nothing wrong. He wouldn't apologize for nothing.

"Say you're sorry!" Peter stepped up to him, bearing down on his little brother. Such a position can be threatening for anybody, and Edmund wasn't willing to be put in an even more humbling one.

"All right! I'm sorry!" But he didn't mean it. Maybe just a bit, but not enough for it to count. They knew that. It was the principle of the matter.

"That's all right," Lucy said, her eyes dancing. "Some little children just don't know when to stop pretending." Her smug look wasn't entirely undeserved, but aggravating all the same.

"Ha ha, very funny," Edmund muttered back, not a little annoyed at having his own words thrown back at him.

"Maybe we should go back," Susan suggested apprehensively, looking round at the Wood in the Wardrobe, a strange world she probably wasn't even entirely convinced existed.

_Can't do that_! Edmund thought worriedly. He had to get them to the Witch—_Queen._ If they went back now, they might not ever come back all at once with Susan hovering over everyone. She'd probably tell the Professor and get the spare room locked up tight, and then where would he be? He'd be an almost-King, with an almost-kingdom, and left with empty promises from an empty wooden box in an empty room.

"Can't we at least take a look around?" he asked quickly, which seemed to surprise the others. He didn't blame them; he wasn't particularly curious and liked to give them impression that everything bored him.

"I think Lucy should decide," Peter delegated, smiling warmly at her.

She gasped in delight and smiled such a big, innocent smile Edmund almost forgave her usurping his position as guide in this strange world. Almost. "I want you all to meet Mr. Tumnus!"

"Well, Mr. Tumnus it is!" Peter confirmed and stepped back into the wardrobe.

"We can't just walk around in these clothes!" Susan reminded them practically, indicating their light summer things.

Peter emerged from the wardrobe with his arms full of furs. "We can use these coats." He started passing them out, having found one almost small enough for Lucy, though she still looked tinier than ever in the mountain of fur.

"Peter, they don't belong to us," Susan insisted. Edmund got the impression she was still trying to convince them to abandon their efforts and return to the room on the other side of the wardrobe.

"Well," Peter said, handing her a coat, "I don't think the professor will mind. And if you think about it _logically" _—Susan rolled her eyes—"we're not even taking them out of the wardrobe." He gave Edmund a particularly fluffy blue fur tipped in black, which Edmund took special offense to.

"But that's a _girl's_ coat!" he protested, refusing to accept it.

"I know," was all Peter said, obviously still a little cross.

So the Faun was arrested. Why should he care? If it mattered so much to Lucy he'd have him freed when he was King, unless this Tumnus truly was a hardened criminal. And now they were trudging in the wrong direction, following a _talking beaver_, of all things. How could the wonderful lady with the _wonderful_ Turkish Delight be as terrible as he seemed to think she was? How could the trees be "on her side?" They were trees. Edmund tried to ignore the feeling that yes, the trees seemed to have a life of their own beyond roots in the earth and leaves in the frosty sky.

The beaver's house was a dam, built across a frozen river, hard as pavement. There was a Mrs. Beaver, too, with fish in the fire and a cozy table she sat the children around. And then it got really confusing. A whole lot of talk about someone named Aslan and a prophecy. But Edmund was impatient. He wanted that Turkish Delight. He wanted to see the Queen again, the Queen who appreciated him. He had better things to do than sit around listening to talking beavers yammer on about something nobody cared about. And so he left.

**Thank you for coming this far. It isn't too difficult to write a review to a beginner like myself, I hope, though I've found that when you consider yourself out of the target readership for an accomplished person it is more so. So please, tell me what you think. As I've mentioned before, I am limited to stay within my poem, which I think you'll enjoy if you think about it as we get in, but tomorrow's chapter is more detailed and goes deeper into the story. So please, a review to help me make it better? I'm certain you have some ideas. Please share them with me! As always, For Narnia, and for Aslan!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I promised you a longer chapter, and here it is, albeit much later than originally intended. I won't give you excuses. Reader numbers really are decreasing alarmingly, but if twenty people read it, or the projected ten for this chapter, and they enjoy the installment, I'm satisfied. However, if it _really_ is just doesn't work out, I may decide to cut my losses. My one-shot, Burning Ice, is still getting readers and reviews, while this seems to be floating in limbo, so perhaps this is telling me something. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. I think you'll find it more inventive than the others, to say the least.**

_Then took the other, as just as fair,_

_And having perhaps the better claim_

_Because it was grassy and wanted wear,_

Edmund walked and walked. If he'd been cold the first time he'd visited Narnia, it was nothing compared to now. He had on short pants and had left his girl-coat at the beaver dam. He would not show up at the Queen's house in a _girl's_ coat. The icy wind stung and froze his face so that his eyes prickled and would have watered, should they not freeze first.

He only looked up from the snow in front of him periodically, just to be certain that the two round hills were getting closer and in the right place. Once or twice he had to adjust his direction so as not to wander off into the wrong direction and get hopelessly lost, but for the most part he did well walking through a strange world at night. There was nothing he could do to see anything beside him in the dark, but the space between the hills seemed to glow an unearthly frosty shade of blue he found somehow comforting, if in a worrisome way. And while he walked, he thought.

He thought about how every agonizingly freezing step into deeper snow was bringing him closer to rooms of Turkish Delight. He tried not to dwell on the possibility that this Queen might not be who she said she was. Instead, he concentrated on that Turkish Delight. Excluding the night with the Queen, it had been years since he'd had a Turkish Delight. He could remember even now, clearly though it felt like a dream from another life, his father coming in the little house in Finchley from work every evening, filling the place with a big warm happiness that made you forget any difficulty you had in school or with friends. Once a week Mr. Pevensie would bring something in for the children: a book for Peter or Susan, a new bonnet for a doll of Lucy's. And on Edmund's turn, he'd come in carrying a little white paper bag, still stiff on the bottom but soft on the top where it had been rolled in his hand. Mr. Pevensie would let him see the bag, give him a wink, and set about taking off his coat and hat as slowly as he could while Edmund tugged at it impatiently. When he'd finally got his office jacket off and Edmund was dying of anticipation, he'd stroll leisurely into the sitting room, take a chair, and pull Edmund into his lap.

"Now," he would say. "What do you suppose I have in this bag?"

And Edmund would guess the most outlandish thing he could come up with, and he spent the week trying to come up with one better than the last. Like, for example, "An elephant!" or "A train!" Sometimes he'd call out things he'd heard on the radio because he liked the sounds of the words: "An airplane!" or "A submarine!"

And every time, without fail, Mr. Pevensie would laugh, ruffle Edmund's hair and say, "There's my clever young man!" which always made Edmund glow with pride. And then Mr. Pevensie would open the bag and reveal ten delicious Turkish Delights in all their powdery glory. They'd each have five and the bag would be gone before you knew it. Those were Edmund's favorite parts of the week, sitting with his father, eating only sweets, not worrying about schoolwork or Susan fretting over his hair. He was certain that was what heaven smelled like: Turkish Delight and pipe tobacco. But he could remember more clearly the day his father came home without any.

He'd thought his father had forgotten. He'd sulked and moped disappointedly because Peter and Susan had gotten a book of fairy tales and Lucy had gotten a pair of wooden shoes for her doll and he hadn't even been told that he was a smart young man. But his father told him immediately that there would be no more Turkish Delight. At first, Edmund was afraid he'd misbehaved terribly, but couldn't figure out how. His father quickly dispelled his fears by explaining that some bad people from the east were trying to start a war. They had invaded Poland with big guns that could hurt a lot of people.

"I'm not a little kid," Edmund had insisted. "Just tell me what's wrong." But at the mention of a war he wanted nothing more than to be sitting in that chair with his father eating Turkish Delight and not worrying about the world.

His father had sighed and explained quite plainly: "You know that our Turkish Delight comes from a little bakery down in Regent's Park Road, owned by Mr. and Mrs. Nowak. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Nowak are from Poland, and this attack scared them very badly. They've closed the shop and they are moving to America."

That wasn't the only change the war brought. Edmund began to notice that the food on the table seemed to be devolving. There were more vegetables from his mother and Susan's garden and considerably less butter for their bread. There weren't any cookies on the table when he came home from school. And then the worst happened. Mr. Pevensie came in very slowly one day. He didn't call out that he was home and did anybody know how to take off a coat? Mrs. Pevensie came to the hall doorway and watched him. He only nodded at her once. She looked very much like she was trying not to cry and walked steadily over to him, where they hugged each other very tightly. Susan started sniffling and Peter's face was entirely lacking in expression, though he held his head high. Lucy was tugging at Susan's hand trying to ask what was happening. Edmund knew. Mr. Pevensie was going to go away to war like some of his friends' fathers had. He was going to protect people like Mr. and Mrs. Nowak's family in Poland, people who were getting bombs dropped on their heads. Wars lasted a long time, he knew. He didn't blame his father for helping people. But he was angry all the same.

"Stand still, stranger," said a growling voice just underneath him, but by the time it finished speaking, it was from on top of him. Edmund found himself pinned to the floor by an enormous wolf, bigger than any he'd ever heard of.

"I-I'm a Son of Adam!" he sputtered, because it seemed that such a rank was considered exceptional in this Narnia place. "I met the Queen In the woods!"

The wolf growled low in his throat and stepped off. "My apologies, fortunate favorite of the Queen—or perhaps not so fortunate."

Edmund followed the wolf through the house, which he decided was considerably more like a castle, an ice castle like the ones he'd seen in the newspaper from a winter carnival in Canada, only this one was so much bigger. The wolf led him up icy, slippery stairs that Edmund had to scuff his shoes into to keep from slipping, though he did lose his footing on a couple occasions. He caught the wolf chuckling at him but didn't have the courage to say anything. The stairs ended in an enormous room which, though it was up high, felt distinctly cavern-like, with tall sloping ceilings and icy pillars that tapered to the middles and widened at their connections to the floor and ceiling. At the end of the long room was the only piece of furniture in it: a great ice chair, undoubtedly the Queen's throne.

_And maybe one day mine_, Edmund thought.

"Wait here," the wolf told him before slinking off into the shadows.

Edmund looked around quickly and walked closer to the throne. It was on a raised platform so that whoever sat there would look down on everyone in the room. He stepped up to it and sat down, snuggling back against a fur mantle on its back because when he sat against the ice he realized how truly cold he was. He looked all around the room and imagined what it would be like to sit there when it was full, people coming from far and wide to listen to him as he doled out wisdom by the bushel, and eating Turkish Delight all day long.

"You like it," stated a familiar glacial voice behind him. It wasn't a question, she was merely stating the obvious. Edmund, however, didn't care what it was; he launched himself out of the throne, watching the Queen carefully.

"Y-yes, your majesty!" he said, dusting the remains of the coal he'd picked up in the statue garden off his hands.

"I thought you might," the Queen said, sitting down herself. She had a blue dress today, very like the one she'd had before, but the skirt seemed wider and she seemed to have some difficulty truly sitting down. It gave her the impression, however, that she was ready to spring up and murder you with one glare at a moment's notice. "Tell me, your sisters, are they deaf?"

Edmund had no idea what she was talking about. Why would Susan and Lucy be deaf? Granted, sometimes it seemed like they never heard a thing he had to say, but they weren't deaf. "No…."

"And your brother," the Queen continued. "Is he… unintelligent?"

Well now, there was a debatable question. "Well, _I_ think so, but Mother says—"

"THEN HOW _DARE_ YOU COME ALONE?" the Queen shouted, her voice reverberating around the icy throne room, which didn't feel quite so welcoming anymore. "Edmund, I asked so little of you—"

"They just don't listen to me!" Edmund protested anxiously. She was clearly not a person to make angry.

"You couldn't even do that!" she continued, more to herself than him, though her shouted words were projected in his direction.

"I-I did bring them halfway! There's a dam at the house with the beavers—" he stuttered out quickly, suddenly deciding that maybe she wasn't quite who he thought she was.

Her pale face changed quite suddenly to one of incomprehensible acceptance, though her eyes kept a chill sharpness to them. "Well. I guess you are not a total loss, then."

Mildly assured, Edmund took a very tentative step forward. "Is there any chance I might have some more Turkish Delight now?"

The Queen smiled, but it wasn't a happy or benevolent smile. "Ginarrbrik," she addressed the dwarf Edmund suddenly noticed nearby. "Our guest is hungry."

"This way," Ginarrbrik told him, stepping over. He drew his knife again and held it behind Edmund. "For your num-nums," he cackled, herding Edmund, who, at home would have snickered at the statement but was too busy now to think of it, forward from the uncomfortably immediate threat of the knife. As he passed, Edmund glared his most dangerous at the Queen who only watched him indifferently.

"Maugrim!" she commanded and Edmund stopped, watching the huge wolf he'd originally mistaken for a statue lope in. "You know what to do."

Maugrim barked some sort of laughter and set off a very wild howl. From all around the enormous throne room it was answered. Edmund looked around quickly, noticing for the first time that the room was lined with very fierce-looking wolves, all of which seemed more than eager to go. To go attack the beavers' dam. Where Peter and Susan and Lucy were. All of a sudden Edmund felt something very heavy inside him. This wasn't the way things were supposed to happen.

No indeed, things were not supposed to happen this way! He was supposed to be welcomed back like a hero, given all the Turkish Delight he could eat, and be on his way to being King of Narnia. Instead, he was shivering in a dungeon cell with irons clapped about his already-freezing ankles so that they made a dreadful clanking noise if he moved. He was huddled in a ball on the floor trying to concentrate on one warm spot on him, but couldn't find one to begin with, except maybe the middle of his feet. No, on thought he decided that those were cold, too.

He had food, at least, because he was _very _hungry. Walking miles through unbearably cold snow to be locked up underground in an ice castle does wonders for one's appetite. It seemed lifetimes ago that he was arguing with Susan about playing cricket outside in the warm fresh air. What he wouldn't give to be there again! He inspected this food, and was gravely disappointed. He had some largish lump he presumed was bread, but upon biting into it, he sputtered and spat it out immediately, dropping it where it clunked against the plate. In order to rinse his mouth of the indescribably putrid flavor, he lifted his tin cup of water to his lips. He wasn't sure why he was surprised to find that it had frozen solid. More than irritated, he dropped it too, where it fell on its side and he watched angrily and hopelessly as the water stubbornly refused to spill out.

"Are you going to eat that?" asked a timid but asserting voice from the cell next door.

Edmund looked over, not having realized he was not alone. A faun was lying across the floor, also chained at the ankles, though his were furry and ended in hooves. He had only a red woolen muffler for warmth and his small pointed horns poking through his fuzzy hair were frosty and shiny. Edmund shook his head and handed the faun his food, which it grabbed eagerly, nibbling eagerly off the large lump.

"Mr.—Tumnus?" Edmund said quietly, and the faun looked up sharply, studying him.

"You're Lucy Pevensie's brother," he stated, as if informing Edmund himself, though it was more of an observation.

"I'm Edmund," Edmund said sadly, wishing he wasn't.

"You have the same nose," Mr. Tumnus said with a small half-hearted chuckle, indicating against his own. Edmund only nodded slightly. "Is your sister all right?"

_I don't know_, Edmund thought, the truth finally truly sinking in the entire way. Lucy could be dead for all he knew. And it would be his fault.

"_Is she safe_?" Mr. Tumnus asked earnestly.

_All my fault_, Edmund thought. "I-I don't know," he said despairingly and dully.

There was a noise on the stairs and Mr. Tumnus dragged himself back to where he'd been. The Queen—_Witch_ walked in very purposefully, carrying her staff of ice on iron. For once, Edmund didn't feel at all welcomed or appreciated by her presence. Instead, he felt in incredible threat looming above him, and knew that it too was entirely his fault.

"My wolves tore that dam apart and your little family was nowhere to be found," she informed Edmund darkly, marching up to him. He scooted back minutely, but she reached down and lifted him up by the collar of his sweater. "Where are they?"

Edmund felt the icy sluggish blood in his veins rush to his feet, and as the feeling returned to them noticed that they were no longer touching the ground. She was stronger than any human, and effortlessly so. The pins-and-needles feeling was accentuated by the chains dragging down on him as the Witch held him up so that he had to tense every muscle from his knees down to keep from squeaking in discomfort.

"I don't know!" he gasped. _And I don't think I'd tell you if I did_.

"Then you are no longer any use to me," she said coldly, dropping him back to the hard icy floor. "Guard!"

"Wait!" Edmund said quickly as a frightening-looking ogre lumbered into the room with a mutter. "They said something about Aslan!"

That caught the Witch's attention. She turned back to him so suddenly she may have been looking in two directions at once. "Aslan? Where?"

Now Mr. Tumnus intervened, dragging himself forward. "He's a stranger here, your majesty! He can't be expected to know—" but the end of her staff came down on his head and he was silenced, glaring.

"I-I left before I could hear any more," Edmund said, glancing quickly from the Witch to Lucy's friend and back again. "I wanted to see you!" he told her quickly and mostly honestly, as ashamed of it as he was.

The Witch glared at him with more poison than he'd ever known a face to hold. "Release the faun," she commanded the guard. The ogre pounded Mr. Tumnus's shackles in with a club and the poor faun cried out with every clank. Edmund flinched every time and tried to convince himself that it wasn't his fault. "Do you know why you are here?" the Witch asked Mr. Tumnus when he was dragged to her feet.

The faun looked up at her with determined if tired eyes and said plainly, "Because I believe in a free Narnia."

Edmund thought it a moving speech, and appropriate, but the Witch only rolled her eyes and glared down at him as if he was the most stupid creature she'd ever met. "You are here because _he_"—she pointed her staff at Edmund, who tried to convey his deepest apologies to Mr. Tumnus—"turned you in… for sweeties." Mr. Tumnus looked at Edmund in a mix of shock, hopelessness, and perhaps a flash of anger, though the most prevalent was an extreme disappointment. Edmund knew, though, that he was no Lucy. Perhaps the faun had thought all of the Pevensies were delightful and pleasant. How wrong he was.

"Take him upstairs," the Witch ordered, and Mr. Tumnus was dragged away, leaving the Witch and Edmund, a fact he was none too pleased with. "And ready my sleigh," she continued after the guard. She dropped her voice and addressed only her glaring and frightened prisoner: "Edmund misses his family."

**And that's that for that. I hope it wasn't too much or felt forced, that made-up part there. Thoughts, feelings on any part or the whole? Please leave a review. I take each to heart, really, and try to make the story better. Do you have any suggestions? I value those most, though any little word is so very greatly appreciated. Thank you for sticking with me. For Narnia, and for Aslan!**


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